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  Lucilla fixed him with a withering eye. “Really, Miles, if that isn’t just like you! You are forever jumping in and fishing people out of troubles even when they don’t want your aid.”

  “Oh, Lucy, pray do not say so.” Her aunt regarded her in dismay. “Miles is such a gentleman, any lady must be delighted to be rescued by him. And dear Miss Caldicot, what a perfectly startling experience it must have been for you. Quite unpleasant, I fear. I do trust my nephew apologized.”

  Had he? Miles couldn’t remember but he rather doubted it. He’d been enjoying himself too much. But Miss Caldicot said all that was proper, winning a smile from his aunt and a rolling-eyed grimace from his sister who promptly drew Miss Caldicot back into an earnest conversation. Miles poured glasses of ratafia for their guests and engaged Lady Xanthe in polite small talk. His gaze though returned frequently to his sister and her companion.

  Lucilla laughed, cast a mischievous look over her shoulder at him and turned back to Miss Caldicot, speaking rapidly in a voice so low he could barely make out the sound. Minx, he reflected. Probably matchmaking with a vengeance. He’d take her to task for it at the first opportunity—if Miss Caldicot did not beat him to it.

  Chievers, his aunt’s butler for as long as Miles could remember, announced dinner and Miles escorted Lady Xanthe up the stairs to the dining room on the first floor at the back of the house. The other ladies followed and he seated them, Lady Xanthe on his right and Miss Caldicot on his left with Lucy just beyond her. Lady Xanthe at once turned her attention to his aunt which left him to regard his other partner.

  As the host he knew it behooved him not to provoke her. The impulse though to draw her into another argument and enjoy her indignation proved almost irresistible. But resist it he did. He set down his glass of burgundy and fixed her with a conciliatory smile. “I believe I must thank you for not denouncing me as an unprincipled meddler after this morning’s contretemps.”

  Miss Caldicot looked up at him over the rim of her own goblet, her large eyes holding a considering expression. “Amazing restraint on my part, did you not think?” she agreed with false sweetness.

  “Most amazing.” So much for the offering of olive branches. “I suppose my sister has been reinforcing your low opinion of me?”

  Again that sweet smile. “There is absolutely no need for that, I assure you.”

  Irritation stirred in him but before he could speak one of the footmen appeared at his shoulder and he held his tongue until the man had finished placing several slices of salmon, swimming in a rich cream sauce, on his plate. The conversation became general and he did not find an opportunity to speak to her with any degree of privacy until they had retired to the drawing room and Lucilla seated herself at the pianoforte to show off some of the skills drilled into her by Miss Caldicot’s persistence.

  Miles drew up a chair near his guest and considered her austere expression. Seldom had he encountered a lady less desirous of being pleased. And seldom, he admitted to himself, had he encountered one he would so much like to please. Just why, he couldn’t be certain. Perhaps it had something to do with the proud carriage of her head or the delightfully melodic timbre of her laugh or maybe the independence she wore as armor. Before he could explore the matter more thoroughly though he had to settle a little matter between them.

  “Miss Caldicot,” he said softly so as not to attract the attention of his aunt or Lady Xanthe.

  Miss Caldicot kept her gaze on Lucilla and made no answer.

  Stubborn, he reflected. If she weren’t so angry with him and if he weren’t so determined to end their feud he would find that trait amusing. He tried again, this time without preamble. “You persist in blaming me for something for which I am not responsible.”

  “Indeed?” Just that one cold word. She still did not look at him.

  “I never suggested you should lose your position. In fact I never mentioned your name.”

  She turned the penetrating regard of her fine mist-colored eyes upon him. “But you did reprimand the Misses Crippenham for not keeping a sufficiently watchful eye upon your sister, did you not?”

  “Would not you have done the same had our positions been reversed?”

  This time her look held nothing but withering contempt. “I suppose you believe it to be a very simple matter to know at every single moment the whereabouts of fifteen girls? And before you say I should check on them even after they have retired to their beds, I can only ask how you think I discovered her missing in the first place!”

  “Your dismissal was wholly unjust,” he agreed.

  She opened her eyes to their widest and said, with no attempt to veil her sarcasm, “I cannot tell you how much it means to me to hear you say that.”

  “I shall say so to the Misses Crippenham if you should wish it,” he offered.

  “I do not!” came her sharp response. “I have had quite enough of your interference, thank you.” She rose and went to sit beside Lady Xanthe.

  She proved a challenge, he reflected. And it was one he intended to meet—and defeat. He could always concoct some scheme by which he could place himself in her good graces but she would undoubtedly consider that further evidence of his interfering. He would have to give the matter some thought.

  He had not yet arrived at any viable plan for melting Miss Caldicot’s anger by the following evening. His tentative ideas concerning an early morning ride in the park had been nipped in the bud by the simple fact she had not put in an appearance. That had disappointed him more than he’d expected. He indulged Cuthbert, his rawboned roan, in a reprehensible gallop and regretted she had not been there to see. He very much would have enjoyed her outrage after the lecture he had given her for just such behavior.

  He did not see her again until that night when he escorted his aunt and sister to the Arnsdales’ card party. A crowd of people already filled the rooms and the hum of voices assaulted him as soon as he stepped through the door. And the Season, he reminded himself ruefully, had barely begun. He greeted his hostess then ushered the ladies in his care into the rooms beyond.

  Lucilla, gowned in a rather becoming creation of white muslin festooned with a score or more of pink riband knots and roses, hurried forward, eyes wide and eager. Her first party, Miles reflected. He would have his hands full with the little minx.

  Still following the girl, he strode into the next drawing room and looked about. Miss Caldicot, he noted with a surprising touch of pleasure, stood on the far side of the room, a tiny figure quite overshadowed by the tall gentleman of fashion at her side. Miles’ gaze narrowed. Not just any gentleman. She captivated Lord Arnsdale himself, that notorious dandy and connoisseur of the ladies. Quite a feather in her cap to keep him at her side. But then he’d already discovered that she possessed a wit and intelligence commensurate with her undeniable beauty. She certainly had charmed their host.

  He found he worked his way toward them, exchanging polite greetings with acquaintances without really noticing whom he passed. Miss Caldicot, he noted with an odd mixture of pleasure and something he couldn’t quite identify, was decidedly in looks. The pale blue crepe of her gown set off the copper highlights in her hair which clustered in becoming ringlets about her face. She stood very straight, very proud. It was no wonder Arnsdale regarded her with that…that damn lecherous expression.

  He slowed, gripped by a sudden new problem. How did one warn a lady with whom one was not upon terms about the man? Or for that matter about any number of seducers and libertines who cluttered the ton? She would never listen to a word he uttered.

  He glanced back, looking for Lucy and his brow snapped down. She stood somewhat aside from the other guests with a dashing young lieutenant resplendent in scarlet regimentals, gazing up into his face with an idiotish expression on her own. Damn the girl, he couldn’t take his eyes off her for two minutes without her discovering some half-pay officer with whom to flirt.

  He strode up to them, awarded the young man a distant bow and turned to Lucy. “
Have you paid your respects to Miss Caldicot yet?” he inquired in a tone from which he kept his vexation.

  “Oh has she arrived already?” Yet she sounded distracted and her gaze returned at once to her companion.

  Miles took her arm. “It would not do to be backward about such things, my dear.” He directed a dismissive nod to the officer and drew Lucy away. “Who was that?” he asked, still trying to keep his voice noncommittal.

  “Oh is he not the most handsome man you have ever seen?” breathed Lucy. She looked up at Miles, her eyes glowing.

  His heart sank. “I cannot consider myself an expert.”

  “Well he is,” she declared. “And so very charming. Oh Miles, I am so happy you brought me to town.”

  Miles, at the moment, felt quite the opposite. With admirable restraint he said merely, “I am glad you are enjoying yourself,” and led her toward her former instructress.

  As they approached he had the dubious pleasure of seeing Arnsdale kiss Miss Caldicot’s hand then walk away. Lucy hurried forward, her hands extended and greeted her former instructress with delight. Miss Caldicot turned and Miles clearly saw the glow in her lovely eyes. Apparently the earl’s gallantries were much to her liking. He could only regret her taste. But the glow faded as her gaze came to rest on him and once more he faced the cool composed Miss Caldicot. She greeted Lucy with warmth, himself with restraint and excused herself promptly to go to one of the card rooms.

  Lucy watched her retreating figure. “What a perfectly delightful idea. I believe I too shall play at cards. It cannot be too difficult to find a partner.”

  Something in the airiness with which she spoke put Miles instantly upon the alert. He followed until a familiar voice, calling his name, caught his attention. He turned to find himself facing a young gentleman whose impeccable attire, muscular build and tanned features proclaimed him a Corinthian.

  “Ashby!” he declared in real pleasure and strode forward to take the hand of his Surrey neighbor. “What are you doing in town so early? I thought you were settled in Leicestershire until May.”

  “I came back for my cousin’s wedding and figured I might as well stay.” He turned to regard the crowded room in distaste. “What brings you here?”

  “Lucy. Finally found a chaperone for her. My Aunt Jane Mannering.”

  Ashby brightened. “Finished at that boarding school at last, has she? Must be in high gig. Is she here?”

  Miles started to escort him to find Lucy but an elderly matron gowned in mauve satin, with a piercing voice and a gimlet eye, hailed the baron. Miles recognized her as one of Ashby’s numerous relations and gave him up for lost for the next quarter of an hour. Adjuring his friend to join him in the card room when he should disentangle himself, he set forth to see what Lucy was about.

  She wasn’t in the first salon he entered. Neither was Miss Caldicot. At least they might be together—though he held out no real hope his sister would behave any better for her former instructress than she did for anyone else.

  He entered the next room only to be brought to a halt by a hauntingly familiar laugh, low and musical, so compelling he wanted to join in. Miss Caldicot. He scanned the room then spotted her only two tables from the door. Her partner seemed to be entertaining her very well, he noted. He moved forward a step and found she sat across the table from Viscount Wolverhampton, an amiable peer a trifle too inclined toward the petticoat line. In fact the man could be an unconscionable flirt. On the whole he could not consider any gentleman with so dubious a reputation to be a suitable companion for a young lady as innocent as he deemed Miss Caldicot to be.

  “Is that not the little Saunderton chit?” asked a woman’s voice behind him.

  He glanced about to see a haughty dame of advancing years, her lorgnette leveled across the room. She had set off an elaborate gown of amber satin with a head of ostrich feathers dyed to match. Diamonds, every bit as famous as the lady herself, gleamed about the neck of Lady Grieves.

  Her companion, the equally daunting Lady Templeton, raised her own lorgnette. “Do you mean that rather pretty girl with the officer?”

  Lady Grieves gave an affected laugh. “Of course with an officer, my dear Amanda. One hears such rumors.”

  “Tell me!” demanded Lady Templeton, all agog for the latest on dit.

  “It seems she has been seen in Bath, in the Sydney Gardens. Clandestine meetings, one must suppose.” She dropped her lorgnette and lowered her voice though it retained its carrying quality. “And always officers, it is said.”

  Miles clenched his teeth to keep from directing a much needed setdown to Lady Grieves. It would do Lucy irremediable harm if he came to points with two of society’s undisputed leaders. He would simply have to steer the girl away from anyone in a red coat for the next two months.

  He wended his way through the tables until he reached Lucy’s. She glanced up at him and her eyes took on a wary expression. She knew perfectly well he didn’t approve, the little minx. For that matter, judging from the uneasy glance of her companion—the same officer to whom she’d been speaking earlier—his irritation must be clear to read on his face. With an effort he forced his countenance to betray nothing more than civil politeness. He awarded an acknowledging nod to the officer then turned to the girl. “I need to speak with you, Lucy.”

  Her features set in a rebellious glower. “I am playing piquet, Miles.”

  “You would oblige me by coming with me. If you will excuse us?” he added to her officer as he caught her elbow and drew her to her feet.

  “I will go nowhere with you when you are being so disagreeable!” Lucy hissed at him.

  “You will come at once if you wish to avoid a scandal.”

  “Scandal?” Lucy’s voice squeaked on the word.

  He drew her, no longer protesting, from the room and into a smaller chamber that had been closed off for the evening. He put his hand on her shoulder, leaning close so that what he said would be for her ears alone. In a few well chosen words he warned her of the conversation between the two influential ladies.

  Lucy listened in silence, her eyes growing wider by the moment. When he finished she pulled away, tears brimming on her lashes. “How-how could they! No, I cannot believe it. You are making the whole of it up. You are quite hateful.”

  He regarded her in a mixture of exasperation and sympathy. “It is far too easy to gain a reputation for being fast—however unjust it might be.”

  She sniffed and the tears threatened to spill down her cheeks. “It is all so dreadfully unfair.”

  “It is also the way of the world.” Miles frowned at her.

  She blanched. “But I have not compromised myself. To even suggest such a thing is vastly unkind.”

  “No, you have not yet. And if you will come with me I believe we may undo some of the damage by—”

  She pulled away. “You are just trying to be managing and I won’t have it!” She turned on her heel only to come to an abrupt halt as she almost collided with the tiny figure of Miss Caldicot who stood just inside the doorway.

  Her former instructress directed an icy glare at Miles. “At least you had the decency to draw her into another room before raking her over the coals. But did it not occur to you how singular it must look when it is seen that she has been crying? No, return to the others. I feel certain we shall do much better without you.”

  And with that he found himself firmly closed out of the room.

  Chapter Five

  To Phoebe’s intense relief Lucy did not break down in tears. She compelled the girl to sit upon a sofa but though Lucy sniffed a few times she soon regained her composure. She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief and pronounced herself to be much better.

  “He just will meddle so in what is, after all, my life. Oh Miss Caldicot, I have met the most wonderful gentleman! Any lady must be thrilled to have captured his attention. And here is Miles making any excuse he can find to prevent me from speaking with him.”

  “Is that why he brought
you in here just now?”

  Her color heightened. “He said the most dreadful things to me. How could I possibly cause a scandal just by playing cards with Lieutenant Harwich?”

  “He told you people are talking about you and other officers?”

  Lucy stared at her aghast. “Do you mean it is true? You have heard those horrible rumors as well? Oh it is so unfair!”

  “But you must see why it is unwise for you to be seen with another officer just at this moment,” Phoebe pointed out gently.

  “But Lieutenant Harwich is different!” Lucy looked up, a smile trembling on her lips. “Oh Miss Caldicot, he is so very wonderful,” she rushed on as if the floodgates had been released. “I knew the moment I laid eyes on him I should love him forever. And it is exactly the same with him!”

  “But—” Phoebe broke off, trying to sort out her thoughts. “This is not the same officer you met at the Sydney Gardens, is it?”

  “No! No of course not. I met Lieutenant Harwich tonight. Lieutenant Gregory Harwich.”

  “I see.” Phoebe considered this with no little concern. “And you knew at once?”

  Lucy nodded, her eyes glowing. “Is it not the most romantic thing you ever dreamed of?”

  “Unexpected, certainly. But in my experience, passions so quickly begun usually die just as fast.”

  “Not this one,” Lucy averred. “You must help me, my dear Miss Caldicot. Miles will listen to you. You can make him understand I shall never love anyone else.”

  Phoebe hesitated, picking her words with care. “I don’t believe your brother and I are on such terms that anything I might say would carry any weight with him.”

  Dismay filled Lucy’s mobile countenance. “Promise me you will try,” she cried and continued her begging until Phoebe at last agreed to speak with her brother.

  Of course, Phoebe reflected as she set forth upon her distasteful errand, she had made no commitment to Lucy about what she would actually say to Miles. Only that she would speak to him about his sister.